The Herald of the King
by Sheila51
Summary: Aragorn seeks out the fulfilment of ancient prophecy in the lost realm of Arnor. His task is to bring his kinswoman Anária safely to the Last Homely House to be fostered by Lord Elrond. Prequel to my stories 'Daughter of Númenor' and 'Into the Starless Night'.


The Herald of the King

A/N: This is a prequel to two of my other stories, and you don't have to read them first by any means.

...

_I found this short work of the finding and fostering of the Princess Elenwen in the library at Osgiliah, together with a second, smaller volume which I believe to be referred to within as the visions and prophecies of the same Princess Elenwen, known in her youth as the Dúnedain, Anária, daughter of Anáthor and wife of the Grey Prince, called Lord Haldir, who legend contends was Elven-born._

Spring of the year 3004 of the Third Age, Greywatch, Northern Downs, Middle Earth...

_When all the shadow comes cloak'd around,_

_And Hope seems to linger in darkness, in doubt,_

_Look then! And see there will be birthed a child,_

_Of the line of the Sun who speaketh as the wisest._

_And in her will be the glory of Númenor undimmed!_

_Look there! For she shall be a herald of hope!_

...

The snow had retreated from the fields and was now gathered only in the hollows, and along the edges of the small stream that ran through the village of Greywatch. Aragorn paused on the ridge. It was not a large settlement by most standards, but unlike most refuges of the Dúnadain in the far north permanent. Greywatch was on a high hill on the eastern side of the North Downs, just a three days walk north from the lost stronghold of Arthedain at Fornost and the end of the Greenway, as the old North Road was known.

It had been the first day of spring when he had left Rivendell, and nearly four weeks later the thaw was only now coming to an end here in the north. The valleys around Greywatch were filled with well tilled fields, protected by a system of dykes, only interrupted at the points of the compass by four solid wooden gates. He had passed through one such this morning, with its small watchtower and manned by a youthful ranger Aragorn did not know. The village itself was much as he remembered, surrounded by another ditch of hardened stakes, backed by a low ridge topped with a low wooden palisade which would have to be climbed, presenting any attacker as a perfect target for archers with perfect targets from the high wooden palisade that rose above it, and several metres behind it. He knew that the back of that fence was in fact an outer palisade above a second spiked killing zone.

The leader of the village was one of the few who like him could claim direct descent from Elendil himself, through his granddaughter, Sedwen, who had in later years been called Nîrwen, the Weeping Lady, so great had been her grief when her grandfather, husband, brother and three young cousins had all perished in the cataclysm of the Last Alliance at the birth of the Third Age. And in her sorrow she had given birth to a son, who had brought his mother back towards the west, to the northern Kingdom of Arnor and her kin, far from the dark lands where his father Benan the brave had fallen defending his King before the assault of Sauron.

Aragorn had met his distant kinsman, Anáthor several times and though there was no dislike between them, he was not a man with whom Aragorn felt great kinship. Anáthor was a stern man, rooted in his home, and devoted to his small part of the world, to his duties there and had never joined the ranging out into the wilds. Preferring to stay where he was and defend home and hearth while others went farther afield. And yet his son had by all accounts declared himself to be prepared to leave his home and range farther afield with his kinsmen. Of course that son had been long in the coming, for many years Anáthor had tended his people and sought no wife from among them. And just when it seemed there would be no daughter of his line for Aragorn to meet Anáthor had declared his intention to visit the western villages of Eriador and there seek a bride to ensure his line, and, he said, fulfil his family's duty to bring forth the herald of the coming of the King of men. A pointed comment, so Aragorn thought, to himself as the heir.

So almost sixteen years earlier Anáthor had gone west to the quieter villages of western Eriador and there he had met and courted Aragorn's mother's youngest sister, Belraen.

Thus the two men, distant cousins and kinsman already, had come to be bound by two sisters. And now Aragorn had two cousins, one a young boy training to be a ranger who was called Anádor, and a girl-child, Anária, whose sixth birthday, was just the day-after-next. Aragorn had planned his journey to be a joyous one, he had sought out his mother, but had found her to have greatly aged in the years he had been gone. Her beautiful face was pale a lined with cares beyond her years, and her eyes seemed sunken. She had been far too frail to make the journey into the far north.

But she had mustered a smile as he made ready to leave her, "You must go, yet I would have you stay by my side in this autumn of my life. But go you must and find the child of my sister. I had word from Belraen that she was a vision of myself as a child. She will be a Herald of Hope for you, I know it."

Aragorn sighed softly to himself. Then he made his way down the ridge swiftly on his long legs. Once it must have formed a dyke such as those which now surrounded Greywatch farther out. This town was an outpost of the long fallen Arnor, and one of the last communities in which the Rangers of the north found their own kind settled in number, and it, like the others, sent many young sons into the wild to become the grey and grim faced rangers Aragorn led.

The daughter was a different question. It had been only three days before midwinter when the sons of Elrond had found him, riding out with three rangers to seek him out. Gandalf had been less than pleased to have him turn away from the trail of the creature Golllum. But they bore a message that could not wait.

"Our father bid us make haste and give you a message. 'Tell him', he said 'to remember the words of Elendil, remember the last daughter of the faithful House of the Sun. Seek her heir before the first day of summer, bend your knee and ask this new daughter of the Elendili what she sees and listen well to her answer. Should her words seem wise to you, bring her to my house before midsummer's day, and as with the heir of Isildur I will protect this daughter of Elros as my kinswoman'."

In the search Aragorn had not forgotten the need to go north that year, but this new stricture, to reach Greywatch before summer had not been in his mind. But almost as soon as he turned his feet that way he felt a rightness he could neither explain or deny. Now he was crossing the last fields, newly tilled and ready for planting between the inner dyke and the town walls.

As he crossed he saw news of his coming had reached the town, for outside the gate a delegation awaited him. Hs keen eyes picked out a tall man of regal bearing, Anáthor, whose face was as stern as he remembered, and a weariness in the way his hands rested on the shoulders of the boy who stood before him. His wife wore a simple dress of deep green, and a grey mantle held by a clasp that shone golden red in the sunlight. Aragorn paused he had seen many finely garbed ladies and elf-maids in his time, but few could match the simply girded Belraen, whose face was fair indeed, and alike as an image to his mother in her youth. He paused seeing on seeing her, his own mother's grieving face for a moment shimmering before his eyes I the spring sunlight. Suddenly the light struck a glinting fire upon Belraen's right shoulder, drawing his eye anew to the clasp of her mantle.

The three daughters of Anárion had each worn a clasp adorned with a golden star, and this was the only one to have come north, the other two had remained in Gondor, but this one had come to the west with Nîrwen's son, and was now one the most prized possessions of his heirs, being one of those things brought away by the faithful from the fall of Númenor on the ships of Elendil. It was said each star had been different, the first the rays reached upwards through silver as the first light of dawn, the second was the full golden light of the noon, and the last was a the setting sun, set in copper in glinted red-gold like the glimmering twinkle of twilight. What had become of the first two Aragorn did not know, they may still be found in the south, but this one, that Sun of the Evening had been the emblem of the house of Anan, son of Nîrwen through the long years since it had come into the northern lands.

He stepped forwards again, striding swiftly now, he saw several Rangers were amongst the party, and a handful of leading townsfolk, all in their finest garments, but he was distracted, as something new had taken his eye from the glinting light.

He had seen a small face looking past the grey mantle. The face was long and finely made, even in childhood she had the look of a far older woman, with a serious face dominated by large grey eyes, and a serious expression. Her dark curls were held back by a fine pink ribbon that matched her simple yet finely made pink dress, and like her mother she wore a grey mantle, though this one was trimmed with pink fabric to match her dress. He returned her look solemnly and bowed his own head as he reached them.

"Welcome Aragorn II to Greywatch." and with that the lordly man dropped to one knee and each man and women near him did likewise. Aragorn reached out a hand.

"I would have you stand, Anáthor." The man raised his head and then stood He was almost as tall as Aragorn. "Stand, all of you." Aragorn repeated. And as they did the lady Belraen smiled at him.

"Welcome my sister's son, welcome Aragorn, son of Arathorn." Belraen said stepping forwards to greet him with open arms and eyes that shone bright with tears. Aragorn took her embrace and returned it. Now he was close he could see the differences between this lady and his mother.

Where his mother had always been slight this woman was strongly built with broad shoulders, and likewise her feature while akin to her sisters were each stronger. Where Gilraen had a delicate beauty that was almost breathtaking in its fineness, Belraen's face matched a reflection of that beauty with a strength he could see shining in her bright eyes.

He paused a moment and considered her again. His mother had always been burdened by her sorrow, not so he felt, would her sister be. She would use hardship as a weapon, and drive herself on without pause. There was a strength here that his mother had lost and for a moment he was lost for words as he stepped back and looked full upon his mother's sister for the first time in his adult life. He suddenly smiled, he saw in those firm eyes an echo of his own determined spirit, and it warmed his heart.

She stepped back and Anáthor reached out to grasp his Chieftain's hand.

"It is good to see you again." The lordly man said inclining his head deeply to his chieftain.

"And to see you, Anáthor." Aragorn replied in his deep soft voice.

"May I present my son, Anádor?" he said motioning to where the youth whose shoulders he had held before was standing at his side.

"Of course." Aragorn reached out his hand and the boy took it, his eyes were steady and calm. He had the look of his father, but with a countenance that looked more used to smiling with none of his father's stern gaze, though he looked no less strong.

"Hail Aragorn, may I add my own welcome to that of my honoured parents." Like his eyes, his voice was clear and strong and already deepened to a man's timbre.

Aragorn simply nodded gravely to the young man. His eyes one more drawn to the serious faced child whose eyes never left him. Aragorn squared his shoulders and then knelt before her as was custom.

Her parents and brother stepped back a little and the whole group bowed their heads as the grim Chieftain of the Dúnedain looked into the eyes of the young girl.

She held out her hands and he placed his own on top of hers with palms facing upwards. Solemnly she leaned forwards, and laid a kiss on each palm.

"I am Anária." She said in a sweet voice, which like her face had a seriousness beyond her years.

"Daughter will you tell me what you see?" he asked softly. His looked into her grey eyes, almost as though into a mirror and for a moment he thought he saw a faint flickering of red light upon her brow, as though a burning star was there, but veiled from him. After a moment she looked past him, her eyes fluttering shut. Then she looked at him again, and when she spoke her voice was little more than a whisper.

"Seek not the one creeping in the shadows in the west." Aragorn frowned for a moment, something about those words seemed familiar, but then he remembered hearing Gandalf's use that word two months before when Aragorn had informed him he had to make a trip into the north before summer. 'Well, if it is required by Elrond, then of course you must go, but perhaps I will follow our creeping friend a little longer, he may yet linger in the shadows hereabouts, but then perhaps other tasks might need attending to this summer.' She had stepped back, releasing his hands, and then looked up toward her mother, reaching up to catch her hand. Aragorn looked up as well, thinking on Elrond's words 'bring her to my house before midsummer's day' as he looked at her mother.

"Thank you, daughter." He said softly, and as he looked up he knew something of his thoughts had come to Belraen, for a tear fell from her proud eyes and slipped unnoticed down her cheek, and she reached down with a second hand, almost instinctively pulling her child closer against her.

Aragorn sighed and stood. This was a deed he did not wish to undertake, but this was not a request of Elrond, his foster-father, but a command of the Lord of Imladris, and one he knew, deep in his heart was both right and necessary, though why he could not say.

...

Please Review


End file.
